The next morning, as I was leaving for school, Mom gave me a hug, something she hadn't done in years - well, ok, I'd made her stop a couple years ago. I thought I had outgrown them.
It felt good.
I left early, hoping to get there before anyone else so I could at least strip in peace, but the closer I got to school the slower I pedaled, dreading the moment I'd have to take off all my clothes.
And with good reason, it turned out. After locking my bike in the rack I went around to the south entrance, where I'd found my clothes the day before, and there was like a mailbox with a sign on it that said "Boys' Clothes Here." There was a fair gathering already, of girls, nothing but girls. I wondered if Karen and the other chosen girls were facing a similar gauntlet of boys outside the north entrance.
Either the other two boys had beaten me here, or were coming later. No one else to share my shame with. Oh joy.
I put my trombone and books down and started to undress. By the time I was down to my underwear I was flaming red. Trying to keep my back to everyone (it wasn't possible, I was surrounded) I skinned my jockeys down, then sat down on cold, damp grass to put my shoes back on. Bundling everything together, I dropped the clothes in the mailbox, the tip of my already rock-hard cock brushing the cold metal. It was like an electric shock, and I flinched and the girls giggled.
"Hi, Carl," one of them simpered, batting her eyes at me. "Whatcha got there?"
"Looks like a dick to me," another said, "but it's too small."
"You wouldn't think so if you'd seen it next to Freschetti's!" someone else answered with a cackle that brought shrieks of glee from the group. I guess that was supposed to make me feel good.
All I could think was that Freschetti was going to kill me if he ever had the chance.
"It's not how much you have that counts, it's how you use it," a familiar voice put in primly, and Beth pushed her way through the crowd. "Hi, Carl."
"Uh, hi!"
"Oh, and I suppose you'd know?" one of the other girls asked skeptically.
Beth didn't answer, she just tucked her arm into mine and guided me away, smiling secretly, like she really did know.
"Thanks!" I said gratefully. "You - uh - kinda put yourself on the spot, though, didn't you?"
"Maybe," she admitted, giving me an impish look.
"You know I've never - uh - done it," I confessed.
She shrugged. "Neither have I."
"I didn't think you had," I assured her quickly.
She gave my arm a squeeze. "I know. That's one of the things I like about you."
"But now, everyone else is going to think...."
She shrugged again. "Let `em." Then she looked up at me, that impish smile on her face again. "We could prove `em right, you know."
Before I could react, she squeezed my arm again, and then let me go and walked away, her pony tail flipping pertly, counter to the sway of her hips while I gaped after her. I hadn't realized she could move like that!
Thanks to this little by-play I took my "relief" in my first period class! I thought, momentarily, of asking for some help, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead I pumped my prick a half dozen times and ejected what felt like a quart of cum into the rag offered by Mr. Cranover. At least he didn't use my eruption as a demonstration of ballistics or something, but let me get to my seat, still drooling and wiping.
I wondered if there was a way to measure the viscosity of cum.
French was more of Mademoiselle Duclos using me as a live model for her French anatomy lesson. She didn't just point. She trailed her fingers over my skin; my nipples suddenly became an erogenous zone, my belly, probing my navel even. She brushed them through my pubic hair.
My cock was throbbing in minutes, even though I'd jacked off less than an hour before.
She stroked my butt, made me turn around and bend over even. Then she put her hands on either side and spread my cheeks! Her finger tickled my asshole (oignon from the French for onion) and I damn near came right then and there!
By the time she was done I was at the boiling point. My dick was drooling pre-cum; cold sticky strands flicked down to stick to my thigh as I hurried toward math, already aching.
"You look to be in some distress, Mr. Walker," Miss Gallison, my math teacher observed as I hesitated in the doorway. I looked down, noticing that my cock was practically purple.
"Uh - yes'm," I agreed.
"We'll wait for the rest of the class, if you don't mind," she said in that no-nonsense tone of voice of hers.
I was stepping nervously from one foot to the other, as if I needed to pee really badly, only that wasn't what I needed. I was so horny I would have fucked her if she'd asked me to. Not likely, since her girl friend was a secretary in the school office. "Yes'm."
The last of the class filed in just as the bell rang, and Miss Gallison clapped her hands to bring them to order. I noticed Freschetti glowering at me.
"Mr. Walker has a problem which needs to be remedied before we proceed. Perhaps someone would like to help him?"
Oh JEEZ! I wanted to crawl in a hole, any hole -- dick first, of course, at this point!
Sure enough, up went Beth's hand before anyone else's. Like I think I said, she was always the first to volunteer, but I was a little surprised she did this time. A couple of other girls raised theirs. The guys all seemed to be sitting on theirs, no surprise.
"Mr. Walker?"
I looked at Beth, saw a hopeful look in her sweet brown eyes, and my dick gave a lurch. "Uh, okay. Uh, Beth, please?"
"Will he need to show you how to do it?" Miss Gallison asked Beth as she made her way to the front of the room.
"I don't think so. I saw him do it in French class yesterday," Beth answered, pushing her glasses back up her nose, nibbling on her lower lip nervously, looking very serious.
"Very well, please proceed," Miss Gallison ordered, checking her watch. "You have three minutes, according to my watch."
Beth licked her lips, and her warm, soft hand closed around my throbbing hardon gently, and my dick wept with joy.
"Better get a tissue or something," I warned her.
Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out a lace trimmed hanky. "This will do." She stroked my dork. "Like this?"
"Oh, yeah," I moaned.
She watched intently, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth the way it did when she was working a tough calc problem. Her hand moved up and down my blazing cock, making soft, sticky sounds as she smeared the precum between her skin and mine.
In seconds I was right on the brink, and then I was over it, my cock pulsing in her grasp, my knees shaking. She held the hanky to the tip of my spouting prick, catching every hot spurt of my cream in it.
When I was done I was so weak I leaned against Miss Gallison's desk. Beth tenderly wiped my oh-so sensitive dick as it slowly lost its stiffness. "Did I do ok?" she asked sweetly.
I managed to nod. "You did great," I admitted weakly. "Thanks."
The class laughed and applauded, and Beth turned pink. After wiping her hand off she carefully folded up her cum sodden hanky and put it back in her pocket. "Any time!" she assured me, a twinkle in her eye, her dimples deeper than ever as she suppressed a giggle.
"Now that we have that out of the way, let's proceed with the assignment I gave you yesterday," Miss Gallison ordered as Beth and I made our way to our desks. "Who has a solution to the volume of the tip of Mr. Walker's erect penis, based on the assumptions we set out yesterday?"
Sure enough, it was Beth's hand that went up first, but this time Miss Gallison picked Freschetti to come up and put his proof on the board.
By his computations, the tip of my cock alone had a volume of 224 cubic centimeters, making just the head of my hardon almost big enough to fill a measuring cup! It took a while before he figured out he'd misplaced the decimal point.
He was flaming a brighter red than I did at my worst.
Naturally, he cornered me at lunch time. "I oughta cut your dick off, geek!" he threatened.
"Hey, it's not my fault!" I pleaded. I'm not a fighter, never have been. I talked my way out of trouble. "I have nothing to do with it. Believe me, I'd really rather have some pants on."
"I mean this, dork." He stung my dick with a snap of his finger.
"OW! I'm sorry, really! I guess it's genetics or something. I can't help it. And anyway, it doesn't mean anything, really!"
"You can't help it, but I can." He reached in his pocket, like he was going for a knife or something, though I don't see how he could have, since they run us through metal detectors at the doors every day.
"Is there a problem here?" It was Miss Gallison, who'd been monitoring the cafeteria.
Freschetti backed off quickly. The school had a zero tolerance policy on teasing and harassment. "Nothin'."
Miss Gallison looked after him, then glanced down at my half erect cock. "Such a big fuss over such a little bit of gristle," she commented, her normally stern mouth softened by the hint of a smile.
"Yes'm," I agreed humbly. Emboldened, I braved a question. "Uh -you're gay, aren't you?"
"It's no secret," she admitted.
"But, well, how do you feel about boys - men?"
"You mean, do I hate them?" she asked, smiling a bit more. "No, of course not. It's just that this," she stroked my dick gently, "doesn't appeal to me. Oh, my life would probably be simpler if I were heterosexual, but I've come to terms with what I am, and I've been lucky enough to find a community that accepts me, and a partner whom I love, and who loves me. That's what really matters in this world, Mr. Walker - finding someone you can share your life with."
"Yes'm," I agreed, not sure I understood completely, but maybe I would before the week was out, or when I was older.
For a moment she looked bleak. "The world can be a very lonely place, Mr. Walker, without someone to share your joys and sorrows with." She brightened. "As you may already know, or will soon, I suspect. Miss Finch seems to fancy you. She's very sweet, and not my type at all."
"Yes'm." For some reason I felt relieved at this.
"Off to your next period, Mr. Walker, and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes, Miss Gallison." I hurried off to gym.
We played softball, and it felt really strange to be outside virtually naked. I had to wear a protective cup, but that was all, since I played right field. I always dreaded any hits my direction, but this time there weren't any.
I struck out twice, and then hit my usual line drive to the shortstop. Then it was back in to shower with the girls again. This time a few more of them didn't wrap up and I got to study their different shapes. Some of the girls didn't have any more tit than I did, and one chunky girl, Stephanie, didn't look as bad without clothes as I thought she would. She even got a rise out of my dick as she washed herself, and blushed at the sight of it rising.
I was toweling off my hair when she touched my shoulder. "Uh, I saw Beth - uh - do you in math."
"Yeah."
"Would you like - do you need...?"
"Relief? Uh - well, I'm not allowed to, right now." My dick was only half-hard anyway, but rising to the occasion from her interest.
"Oh." She seemed disappointed.
"But you can touch me, if you want," I assured her suddenly, wondering what was getting into me. I noticed her nipples were stiffening.
"Can I?" She didn't wait for an answer, but gently curled her hand around my dick as it swelled and stiffened even further. "It's so hot, and getting hard!"
"Yeah." Emboldened, I reached up and gently touched her nipple with my fingertips.
"Oh!" She flinched and I jerked my hand back.
"Sorry," I apologized quickly.
"That's all right! It's just that I didn't expect it." Turning pink, she quickly let go of my cock. "We'd better get dressed."
I grinned at her. "You'd better get dressed," I corrected. "I only need to put on my shoes and socks."
"Oh, yeah." She blushed prettily. She was kind of fat, but really cute, I decided. Not as cute as Beth, though. "See you around."
"See you around," I agreed, finishing toweling off.
Maybe it was playing softball outside, or maybe it was Stephanie's attention in the shower, or maybe Beth jacking me off, but I was somehow more comfortable as I made my way to my next class.
I was very conscious of the touch of air all over my naked body, which I hadn't been before. It felt good. I sought the word I wanted, mentally working on my journal for Mr. Turner - it felt really sensuous. This had to be what sensuous was. It was like every nerve ending was wide awake. My flesh felt incredibly alive.
I knew my nipples were stiff, and my cock was throbbing again.
"Ah, Mr. Walker," Miss Mitchell, the vice principal who'd made me strip greeted me. "How are you doing today?"
"Oh, good afternoon, Miss Mitchell," I answered politely. "Better, thank you."
"You seem much more at ease this afternoon," she observed.
"Yes'm, I guess I am." I glanced down at myself, pinking up at the sight of my hardon pointing at her lewdly. "It's still pretty embarrassing. I wish I didn't get like this so easily." I gestured at my rigid dick.
She actually smiled slightly. "I find it rather flattering, actually."
"Oh! Uhm, sorr - I mean - oh," I stammered.
"If you want to get to your next class in time for some relief, Mr. Walker, you'd best hurry."
For a moment I thought about asking her to do it then and there, but decided not to and hurried away to Civics.
Mrs. Jacobs glanced at the clock as I entered the room, one of the last, just before the bell rang. "Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Walker."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Jacobs." I hesitated. She was gray haired, with sharp blue eyes behind bifocals. She'd been teaching here practically forever. A twinge from my steaming balls decided me. "I - ah - think I'd better take some relief."
She pursed her lips. "Indeed? Very well. Did you want assistance?"
I glanced around. A half a dozen girl's hands went up, and one guy'?! It was Phil Burton!! My eye skipped past him quickly and lighted on Marilyn Beaverton. She was smirking knowingly as she held her hand up, not eagerly but languidly. She licked her lips, giving me a heavy lidded look.
"Uh, Marilyn?" I asked. She had a rep around school. I'd overheard one guy say she'd go down for a wooden nickel and give four cents change back. I figured it would be easier for the girl, and maybe me, if it was someone experienced.
She bounced her way up from her seat. She wore skirts as short and sweaters as tight as she could get away with under the dress code, and her nipples were always poking out - boob ends showing, some guys called it, others called it "high beams." She was blond, with blue eyes, and a body that would give the Pope a hardon.
She smiled at me, and her tongue danced along her luscious lips teasingly. "Look Ma, no hands," she whispered softly, grinning, her eyes flashing. I gaped as she deliberately put her hands behind her back, and sank slowly to her knees in front of me. There was a gasp throughout the room.
"Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. Jacobs dropped into her chair, looking like she was about to faint.
"There's nothing in the rules about how I do it, is there?" Marilyn asked innocently.
Then, while Mrs. Jacobs leafed desperately through the brochure, Marilyn leaned forward. Her tongue flicked out and touched just the very tip of my dick, catching the thick, clear drop of pre-cum that was about to fall.
I didn't remember what the rules said, and at that point I didn't care. "Aahhhhh!" Without meaning to, I sighed, as her soft, warm lips closed around the head of my cock. I had to steady myself with one hand on the desk.
Her tongue stroked the underside of my hardon, stroked that oh-so sensitive spot just behind the head, like hot velvet, and I felt my prick ooze a stinging, ecstatic wave of hot seepings.
"Mmmmmmmm," Marilyn purred, smacking her lips. "Delicious," she added, before closing her mouth on my cock once again.
"Oh God," I whispered.
She leaned forward, and I watched my prick slowly vanish in her mouth, her lips, bright red with lipstick, sliding along its throbbing length. Half my cock was engulfed by her warm mouth.
The whole classroom seemed to be holding its breath.
She drew back, sucking gently, then slid forward again, deeper, and it was all I could do to keep from passing out with pleasure.
Out, in, she moved a little faster, took me a little deeper with each stroke. I felt my cock head strike the back of her throat, felt her throat work, and take me deeper.
Holy shit! She was deep throating me. I watched as she buried her nose in my pubic hair.
One more stroke and I was over the edge. She must have felt my cock pulsate, and shoved forward, the last bit of my prick vanishing, and I began to unload straight down her throat.
Pulse, pulse, pulse, my groin convulsed as I poured wave after wave of cum into her mouth. Marilyn took it all, backing off at last, her nostrils flaring as she drew in a breath, catching the last few spurts on her tongue. The gentle touch of her fingers on my balls made my groin wring itself dry with a final ecstatic spasm.
When I was finally done erupting, she eased off, spat out my already softening dick, rolled the last drizzle of cum in her mouth around on her tongue with obvious relish, and swallowed it.
"Ooops!" She giggled, using her finger to capture a little dribble that had escaped to trickle down her chin, and licked her finger clean.
Then she carefully used her mouth to clean off my cock one last time.
When she held her hand up, what could I do but help her to her feet?
The class burst into applause, and she curtsied daintily before jiggling her way back to her seat.
Mrs. Jacobs was sagging weakly in her chair, fanning herself with the brochure before tossing it aside and polishing the steam off her bifocals with a tissue.
I felt like I'd had the stuffings sucked out of me. I'd been Hoovered! My legs were rubbery as I made my way to my seat.
"Well, now!" Mrs. Jacobs began. "I think this would be a good time to discuss the factors which led to the development of this program which Mr. Walker is participating in. Perhaps we should begin by listing those factors."
She went to the whiteboard, and began to scrawl shakily as the class volunteered their ideas. I just sat there and tried to catch my breath.
After that little episode, I thought anything else that happened that day would be an anticlimax (pun intentional, and thank you, Mr. Turner for teaching me that word), but I was wrong.
Oh, band practice wasn't quite as memorable, but it did have its moments. You've got to admit, marching around an athletic field wearing nothing but shoes and socks while blowing a trombone ranks right up there on the "strange" scale.
Mr. Peters accepted the situation without comment. I still wasn't clear whether I'd be wearing my uniform on Saturday or not, but I was afraid to ask, frankly.
Or was I? I was getting a bit more comfortable with being naked in front of all these people. The thought of parading around in the nude at halftime was certainly intimidating. But it was exciting - well, arousing is more accurate - as well.
Then we were into practice and I didn't have time to think of anything else. You try marching and blowing through about twenty feet of brass tubing, trying to make meaningful sounds, and see how much day dreaming you can do!
There was a light wind blowing, it was about 75 degrees, I guess, and the sun was bright. In spite of having to concentrate on what I was doing, I was intensely aware of being naked as the breeze stroked my skin. The sun was hot on me, too. The only word for it was sensuous, believe me.
Then, at the end of practice, Mr. Peters threw me a real curve.
There we were in ranks, and Mr. Peters called me out. "Mr. Walker, front and center, please."
Wondering what I'd done wrong, I slipped through the files from my usual place in the middle of the second row from the back. "Yessir?" I asked, suddenly a bit more self-conscious at being singled out and standing with the whole band looking at me, all pink and white and tan.
"You have the honor of dotting the `I' this Saturday!" he announced.
Well, it was supposed to be an honor. We usually open our halftime show by filing on to the field and forming the school name, Central High, in script. There's one musician selected to dot the "i" in "High." Mr. Peters selects the player he thinks has deserved the honor most, by whatever criteria he uses - I've never quite figured out what it is.
Anyway, that player is supposed to march in his or her usual place in the file, and then at the top of the loop of the "l" in "Central" he marches straight off alone while the rest of the band circles around to start the "High" below the "Central." He then wanders around sort of at random as if lost. As we near the end of the maneuver he looks around frantically, then runs a circle around the whole formation before finding his place at the top of the "i" just as the last beat comes down on the school fight song.
"Me, sir?" Damn, my voice cracked!
"You're `it,' Mr. Walker. Any problem with that?"
I thought furiously. Surely they wouldn't want me to do that in the nude! "Uh, no sir, I guess not." I'd never done it before, but we all knew the routine well enough. It was all a matter of timing, was all.
"Very good!" He slapped me on the butt! "Back in place, Mr. Walker."
I slipped back through the ranks, Stephanie, who played a crackerjack flute, giving me a wink and a smile, reaching out to brush my cock with her fingers as I passed her, much to my surprise.
I was still mulling over the honor, and my butt was still stinging from Mr. Peters's slap when he dismissed us for the day.
I hurried to get my trombone in its case and get to my clothes. After strapping my trombone to the bike, wishing, as I always did, that I played trumpet instead, I pedaled homeward. A carload of senior girls cruised past me with a bunch of cheery greetings, waves and one wolf whistle.
If nothing else, I was acquiring some popularity!
I walked in to find Sis already in the kitchen, scarfing down cookies and milk. Apparently she either didn't have some extra curricular something, or they gave her time off for good behavior.
"How was school?" she asked uncustomarily.
"Okay," I answered, my head in the fridge as I sought the milk.
"It's on the counter," she pointed out. "Cookie?"
"Yeah."
"You're welcome," she responded sarcastically.
"Uh, I'm sorry, thanks," I mumbled around a cookie.
"What's it like, going around school naked?"
I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about it with her, but decided it had to be done, sooner or later. I dropped into the chair across from her, dunking a cookie in my milk. "Embarrassing," I admitted.
"I heard you got hard," she observed.
"Guys do that, when they get sexually excited," I explained.
"So's they can get their penis inside the girl," she said. "I learned about that in sex ed last year."
"Last year?! You're only eleven!"
She made a face. "I know some girls my age who've already lost their cherries."
"Oh. I guess you start younger than I did."
"Not ME!" she protested. "Jeepers!"
"I didn't mean you YOU," I assured her. "I mean your generation."
She giggled. "I'm only four years younger than you."
"Four years is a long time," I mumbled.
"Yeah, I guess so," she agreed, "more than a third of my life, more than a quarter of yours." She drank some milk and licked off the mustache it gave her. "Uh - Mom said you might go naked around the house sometime."
"I don't know." I was blushing again, both embarrassed and aroused at the thought.
"I wouldn't mind if you did," Sis went on. "It might even be a good thing."
"Oh? And just how is that, Squirt?" I asked wryly.
"Well, I mean, I'd like, maybe, get used to what a naked boy looks like," she pointed out. "Mom said she was really shocked the first time she saw a guy naked with a ....
"Hardon?" I asked.
"Yeah. It'd kinda get me used the idea of having something like that put in me," she explained. "When I do decide to have sex, I mean."
I thought this over. "I suppose it might."
"So. Will you?"
"Will I what?" I asked.
"Get naked," she explained like I was being stupid or something, which I guess I was.
"Right now?!"
She picked up her glass and took it to the sink. "It's as good a time as any," she pointed out. "Done with the milk?"
I shoved it in her direction, my hand shaking. She picked it up, almost dropped it and put her other hand under it as she carried it to the refrigerator.
"I'm going to my room," I mumbled, fleeing as she wet a sponge and mopped the cookie crumbs off the table.
My own sister was giving me a hardon!
Up in my room, I paced. I was suddenly very aware of my clothes, how they constricted me, smothered me. My dick was trying to stiffen, knotted over by my shorts and jeans. My shirt felt tight under my armpits.
Hell, it wouldn't hurt to be naked in my room, at least, would it?
My hands were shaking as I unfastened my belt. Then I had to sit down to take off my shoes before I could get my pants down. I shucked off my socks at the same time, and stood up again.
Draping my jeans over a chair, I unbuttoned my shirt, practically tore it off.
My dick tented out my jockeys.
I stretched, like a cat, one of those long, crackling, work-every-muscle-to-the-limit stretches that leaves you feeling like your whole skeleton has about separated at the joints and you're about to fall in a heap of disconnected bones.
Then I skinned my shorts down and off. My cock stood out stiffly, and I shivered at the touch of the air all over my body. I wasn't cold. I just felt so alive!
I turned to get to my homework, and only then realized that I'd left my books and my trombone downstairs.
I looked at my clothes distastefully. The thought of smothering my body in them was repulsive.
Besides, she'd asked for it, hadn't she?
I opened my door and stepped out into the hall, feeling every stray current of air that brushed my bare skin. I looked toward her room, thinking maybe Sis was already in there, doing her homework, but her door was wide open, which meant she was probably still down stairs.
Taking a deep breath, tingling all over, I started down, my hardon swaying heavily with every step.
"Oh!" Sis appeared at the bottom of the stairs from the direction of the kitchen, and froze like a statue. Her eyebrows went up and her jaw dropped.
"I - uh - forgot my books," I stammered. Her eyes darted this way and that, flicking back to me, then scampering aside.
I stood on the stairs, about six steps up, one foot on the next step down from the other, hand on the railing. I was that aware of how I was standing! "It's okay to look. I've been stared at by at least half the school at this point," I reminded her.
She was blushing. "Oh, okay - uh - sorry. Your staff - uh, stuff - is in the kitchen."
Ignoring her Freudian slip, I advanced down the stairs. "Thanks."
Then I had to stop, because she was still blocking the bottom of the stairs.
"Sorry," she apologized again, getting out of the way.
"It's okay, squirt," I assured her, turning toward the kitchen. She was still at the bottom of the stairs when I came back with my books and trombone. "If you've got any questions, I'll be in my room."
A few minutes later there was a timid tap on my door. I blanked my computer screen - a chick in a bathing suit danced on the monitor.
Thinking maybe I should get rid of that screen saver, I swiveled around, my cock standing up from my lap. "Come in."
"Uh - hi," she greeted me timidly, advancing warily. "Uh - you said if I had any questions."
I stretched, folding my hands behind my head, leaning back in my chair, crossing my ankles, my hardon flopped up on my belly. "Ask away."
"I didn't realize it was so big!" she observed, staring unabashedly now.
I shrugged. "Some are bigger, some are smaller." I'd been doing some research on the Internet. "I guess I'm about average, from what I've found out."
"What does it feel like?"
"You can touch it, if you want," I offered.
"NO! I mean, what does it feel like to - have that thing hanging down there?"
I looked down. "It's not exactly hanging, right now," I pointed out.
"Uh - no, but I mean, when you're standing up."
I pondered this. "I don't know. It's just sort of there. How aware of you of, say, your nose? Anyway, it's not usually hard, you know."
"You're excited," she pointed out. "By me."
"Don't flatter yourself, squirt," I said teasingly. "At my age, I can get a hardon for no reason at all. It can be really embarrassing when it happens in class. Or, at least it used to be embarrassing," I corrected. "Now I just ask for relief."
"Relief?"
So I explained how having a hardon for a long time can start to hurt. "So I can masturbate during the first five minutes of class if I want to, which I do, if I've been hard for long."
"In front of the class?"
I nodded. "You've heard?"
She nodded, still staring at my dick. "But I didn't believe it."
"Believe it."
"You said I can touch it?"
I nodded. "If you want."
She started to reach for me, and then hesitated. "Maybe later," she said, blushing. "Uh - it's your turn to do dinner, remember."
"Yeah. Are you done? I've got work to do."
"Oh, yeah, sorry." She backed out, still staring.
I kicked the door closed behind her and turned back to my computer. I managed to concentrate on my physics homework enough that my hardon faded away.
It was back, though, when I was setting the table and getting dinner ready. I wondered how Mom was going to take this new development in my progress.
"Oh!"
"Hi, Mom, how was work?" I asked, watching her expressions shift from surprise to curiosity to - something I couldn't quite read -to carefully schooled calm.
"Hi yourself," she responded a little stiffly. "I see you've - uh - taken the next step."
I looked down at myself. "I guess you could say so."
"How did your sister take it?"
I shrugged. "Okay, I guess. She had a few questions. You might ask her how she feels about it. Dinner will be ready in half an hour."
"Okay, thanks." She was obviously working very hard to make everything seem very normal. "I'm going upstairs to change. Would you pour me a glass of wine, please, and put a couple of ice cubes in it?"
"Sure." I reached for a glass for her.
She hesitated in the doorway. "And, uh, could you maybe dress for dinner? I'm not sure we're ready for your full display while we eat."
I laughed. "Sure. You want me to put something on now?"
"No, no, that's okay," she gave a wave and disappeared.
A few minutes later she was back to claim her drink. "Thanks, honey." She touched my bare waist as she reached past me for her glass, then seemed to jerk her hand away.
"You're welcome." I was tingling from her touch. Skin to skin contact in those areas wasn't something I was used to, and I wondered if I ever would be. I had the feeling she wasn't comfortable with it, either.
I threw on my gym shorts and a tee shirt for dinner, but even that felt restrictive.
"Can I go naked around the house, too?" Dee suddenly asked as we neared the end of supper. I'd told them how it had felt to walk around naked, since they seemed to want to know.
What felt weird, I admitted, was to be the only one naked in a crowd of people. It made me feel - "Exposed" just went without saying. I decided vulnerable was the best word..
"Do you want to go around the house naked?" Mom asked, managing to sound pretty calm about the whole thing.
"I don't know," Sis admitted. "But it might make Carl more comfortable, think of that. Anyway, if I decide I'd like to try it, can I?"
Mom mulled this over, while my dick, which had gone down once I'd dragged on my shorts, responded in its usual perverse way, swelling and growing like it wanted to craw out of the leg of my shorts to check on what was going on.
"I suppose so," Mom agreed at last. "You're likely to be picked to do it around school sometime next year anyway."
"Oh!" My sister sounded surprised, and worried. She looked nervously down at herself. She was wearing a cut off tee shirt and shorts herself, and I realized she was getting a bit of shape. "Oh," she said musingly. "Yeah, I might, I guess."
Trying to will my dick down, I began to clear the table. "I'll do the dishes tonight. I'm pretty much done with my homework. Can I get out of these clothes now?" I asked.
"If you like," Mom agreed, sounding a little stressed. "I've got some work to do, so I'll be upstairs. Is your homework done, Dee?"
"No." My sister sighed wearily.
"No TV until it's done," Mom reminded her.
"Yes'm."
After things were cleaned up and homework was done we all settled down to some TV, with Mom and Sis both trying to seem like everything was normal.
I couldn't help looking at Sis, wondering what she would look like naked. Did she have tits yet? Or pubic hair?
My dick stayed hard until I was up in my room, dealing with some e-mail, when it went down again. There was a rap at the door and Mom came in.
Up periscope!
"Don't stay up too late," she cautioned.
"I won't."
Then she really startled me by coming up behind me and putting her hands on my shoulders. Then she slid them down my chest, hugging me, resting her chin on my head, my neck nestling back in the valley between her breasts. Her hands were only a few inches from my still stiff dick. She kissed the top of my head. "You're very brave," she observed softly.
I felt myself flushing. "Thanks."
With a squeeze, she released me, and her fingers actually brushed the head of my cock. "Good night. Sleep well."
"You, too," I responded, my whole body tingling.